"I know." He's too old for uncertainty, he thinks, for wondering whether Scully really means it. This one does, even if she can't say it; he can think back on a hundred different moments and know without question that she loves him. He holds her, all her bones too sharply drawn beneath her skin, and wonders how the hell he's going to save her this time.

You're not, a voice inside him says, and he can't decide if it's pessimism or not. She will.

There has to be a way, and if one of them is likely to figure it out, it's Scully. She found her way to him, and she'll find her way back. And for now - he can indulge in a few more minutes with her.

"You know it all now," he eventually murmurs. "Guess that wasn't the key to getting you home."